The Story of Francis Cludde

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE WITCH'S WARNING.

  "One minute!" I said. "That is the place."

  Master Bertie turned in his saddle, and looked at it. The light wasfading into the early dusk of a November evening, but the mainfeatures of four cross streets, the angle between two of them filledby the tall belfry of a church, were still to be made out. The eastwind had driven loiterers indoors, and there was scarcely any oneabroad to notice us. I pointed to a dead wall ten paces down onestreet. "Opposite that they stopped," I said. "There was a pile ofboards leaning against it then."

  "You have had many a worse bedchamber since, lad," he said, smiling.

  "Many," I answered. And then by a common impulse we shook up thehorses, and trotting gently on were soon clear of London and makingfor Islington. Passing through the latter we began to breast the steepslope which leads to Highgate, and coming, when we had reached thesummit, plump upon the lights of the village, pulled up in front of abuilding which loomed darkly across the road.

  "This is the Gatehouse Tavern," Master Bertie said in a low voice. "Weshall soon know whether we have come on a fool's errand--or worse!"

  We rode under the archway into a great courtyard, from which the roadissued again on the other side through another gate. In one corner twomen were littering down a line of packhorses by the light of thelanterns, which brought their tanned and rugged faces into relief. Inanother, where the light poured ruddily from an open doorway, anostler was serving out fodder, and doing so, if we might judge fromthe travelers' remonstrances, with a niggardly hand. From the windowsof the house a dozen rays of light shot athwart the darkness, anddisclosed as many pigs wallowing asleep in the middle of the yard. Inall we saw a coarse comfort and welcome. Master Bertie led the wayacross the yard, and accosted the ostler. "Can we have stalls andbeds?" he asked.

  The man stayed his chaffering, and looked up at us. "Every man to hisbusiness," he replied gruffly. "Stalls, yes; but of beds I knownothing. For women's work go to the women."

  "Right!" said I, "so we will. With better luck than you would go, Iexpect, my man!"

  Bursting into a hoarse laugh at this--he was lame and one-eyed and notvery well-favored--he led us into a long, many-stalled stable, feeblylit by lanterns which here and there glimmered against the walls."Suit yourselves," he said; "first come is first served here."

  He seemed an ill-conditioned fellow, but the businesslike way in whichwe went about our work, watering, feeding, and littering down in oldcampaigners' fashion, drew from him a grunt of commendation. "Have youcome from far, masters?" he asked.

  "No, from London," I answered curtly. "We come as linen-drapers fromWestcheap, if you want to know."

  "Ay, I see that," he said chuckling. "Never were atop of a horsebefore nor handled anything but a clothyard; oh, no!"

  "We want a merchant reputed to sell French lace," I continued, lookinghard at him. "Do you happen to know if there is a dealer here withany?"

  He nodded rather to himself than to me, as if he had expected thequestion. Then in the same tone, but with a quick glance ofintelligence, he answered, "I will show you into the house presently,and you can see for yourselves. A stable is no place for French lace."He pointed with a wink over his shoulder toward a stall in which aman, apparently drunk, lay snoring. "That is a fine toy!" he ran oncarelessly, as I removed my dagger from the holster and concealed itunder my cloak--"a fine plaything--for a linen draper!"

  "Peace, peace, man! and show us in," said Master Bertie impatiently.

  With a shrug of his shoulders the man obeyed. Crossing the courtyardbehind him, we entered the great kitchen, which, full of lightand warmth and noise, presented just such a scene of comfort andbustle, of loud talking, red-faced guests, and hurrying bare-armedserving-maids, as I remembered lighting upon at St. Albans three yearsback. But I had changed much since then, and seen much. The bailiffhimself would hardly have recognized his old antagonist in the tall,heavily cloaked stranger, whose assured air, acquired amid wildsurroundings in a foreign land, gave him a look of age to which Icould not fairly lay claim. Master Bertie had assigned the lead to meas being in less danger of recognition, and I followed the ostlertoward the hearth without hesitation. "Master Jenkin!" the man cried,with the same rough bluntness he had shown without, "here are twotravelers want the lace-seller who was here to-day. Has he gone?"

  "Who gone?" retorted the host as loudly.

  "The lace merchant who came this morning."

  "No; he is in No. 32," returned the landlord. "Will you sup first,gentlemen?"

  We declined, and followed the ostler, who made no secret of ourdestination, telling those in our road to make way, as the gentlemenwere for No. 32. One of the crowd, however, who seemed to be crossingfrom the lower end of the room, failed apparently to understand, and,interposing between us and our guide, brought me perforce to a halt.

  "By your leave, good woman!" I said, and turned to pass round her.

  But she foiled me with unexpected nimbleness, and I could not push heraside, she was so very old. Her gums were toothless and her foreheadwas lined and wrinkled. About her eyes, which under hideous red lidsstill shone with an evil gleam--a kind of reflection of a wickedpast--a thousand crows' feet had gathered. A few wisps of gray hairstruggled from under the handkerchief which covered her head. She washumpbacked, and stooped over a stick, and whether she saw or not mymovement of repugnance, her voice was harsh when she spoke.

  "Young gentleman," she croaked, "let me tell your fortune by thestars. A fortune for a groat, young gentleman!" she continued, peeringup into my face and frustrating my attempts to pass.

  "Here is a groat," I answered peevishly, "and for the fortune, I willhear it another day. So let us by!"

  But she would not. My companion, seeing that the attention of the roomwas being drawn to us, tried to pull me by her. But I could not useforce, and short of force there was no remedy. The ostler, indeed,would have interfered on our behalf, and returned to bid her, with acivility he had not bestowed on us, "give us passage." But she swiftlyturned her eyes on him in a sinister fashion, and he retreated with anoath and a paling face, while those nearest to us--and half a dozenhad crowded round--drew back, and crossed themselves in haste almostludicrous.

  "Let me see your face, young gentleman," she persisted, with a hollowcough. "My eyes are not so clear as they were, or it is not your cloakand your flap-hat that would blind me."

  Thinking it best to get rid of her, even at a slight risk--and thechance that among the travelers present there would be one able torecognize me was small indeed--I uncovered. She shot a piercing glanceat my face, and looking down on the floor, traced hurriedly a figurewith her stick. She studied the phantom lines a moment, and thenlooked up.

  "Listen!" she said solemnly, and waving her stick round me, shequavered out in tones which filled me with a strange tremor:

  "The man goes east, and the wind blows west, Wood to the head, and steel to the breast! The man goes west, and the wind blows east, The neck twice doomed the gallows shall feast!

  "Beware!" she went on more loudly, and harshly, tapping with her stickon the floor, and snaking her palsied head at me. "Beware, unluckyshoot of a crooked branch! Go no farther with it! Go back! The swordmay miss or may not fall, but the cord is sure!"

  If Master Bertie had not held my arm tightly, I should have recoiled,as most of those within hearing had already done. The strangeallusions to my past, which I had no difficulty in detecting, and thewitch's knowledge of the risks of our present enterprise, were enoughto startle and shake the most constant mind; and in the midst ofenterprises secret and dangerous, few minds are so firm or so recklessas to disdain omens. That she was one of those unhappy beings who buydark secrets at the expense of their souls, seemed certain; and had Ibeen alone, I should have, I am not ashamed to say it, given back.

  But I was lucky in having for my companion a man of rare mind, andbesides of so
single a religious belief that to the end of his life healways refused to put faith in a thing of the existence of which Ihave no doubt myself--I mean witchcraft.

  He showed at this moment the courage of his opinions. "Peace, peace,woman!" he said compassionately. "We shall live while God wills it,and die when he wills it. And neither live longer nor die earlier! Solet us by."

  "Would you perish?" she quavered.

  "Ay! If so God wills," he answered undaunted.

  At that she seemed to shake all over, and hobbled aside, muttering,"Then go on! Go on! God wills it!"

  Master Bertie gave me no time for hesitation, but, holding my arm,urged me on to where the ostler stood awaiting the event with a faceof much discomposure. He opened the door for us, however, and led theway up a narrow and not too clean staircase. On the landing at thehead of this he paused, and raised his lantern so as to cast the lighton our faces. "She has overlooked me, the old witch!" he saidviciously; "I wish I had never meddled in this business."

  "Man!" Master Bertie replied sternly; "do you fear that weak oldwoman?"

  "No; but I fear her master," retorted the ostler, "and that is thedevil!"

  "Then I do not," Master Bertie answered bravely. "For my Master is asgood a match for him as I am for that old woman. When he wills it,man, you will die, and not before. So pluck up spirit."

  Master Bertie did not look at me, though I needed his encouragement asmuch as the ostler, having had better proofs of the woman's strangeknowledge. But, seeing that his exhortation had emboldened thisignorant man, I was ashamed to seem to hesitate. When the ostlerknocked at the door--not of 32, but of 15--and it presently opened, Iwent in without more ado.

  The room was a bare inn-chamber. A pallet without coverings lay in onecorner. In the middle were a couple of stools, and on one of them ataper.

  The person who had opened to us stood eying us attentively; a bluff,weather-beaten man with a thick beard and the air of a sailor. "Well,"he said, "what now?"

  "These gentlemen want to buy some lace," the ostler explained.

  "What lace do they want?" was the retort.

  "French lace," I answered.

  "You have come to the right shop, then," the man answered briskly.Nodding to our conductor to depart, he carefully let him out. Then,barring the door behind him, he as rapidly strode to the pallet andtwitched it aside, disclosing a trap door. He lifted this, and we sawa narrow shaft descending into darkness. He brought the taper and heldit so as to throw a faint light into the opening. There was no ladder,but blocks of wood nailed alternately against two of the sides, atintervals of a couple of feet or so, made the descent pretty easy foran active man. "The door is on this side," he said, pointing out theone. "Knock loudly once and softly twice. The word is the same."

  We nodded and while he held the taper above, we descended, one by one,without much difficulty, though I admit that half-way down the oldwoman's words "Go on and perish" came back disquietingly to my mind.However, my foot struck the bottom before I had time to digest them,and a streak of light which seemed to issue from under a door forcedmy thoughts the next moment into a new channel. Whispering to MasterBertie to pause a minute, for there was only room for one of us tostand at the bottom of the shaft, I knocked in the fashion prescribed.

  The sound of loud voices, which I had already detected, ceased on asudden, and I heard a shuffling on the other side of the boards. Thiswas followed by silence, and then the door was flung open, and,blinded for the moment by a blaze of light, I walked mechanicallyforward into a room. I made out as I advanced a group of men standinground a rude table, their figures thrown into dark relief by flaresstuck in sconces on the walls behind them. Some had weapons in theirhands and others had partly risen from their seats and stood inpostures of surprise. "What do you seek?" cried a threatening voicefrom among them.

  "Lace," I answered.

  "What lace?"

  "French lace."

  "Then you are welcome--heartily welcome!" was the answer given in atone of relief. "But who comes with you?"

  "Master Richard Bertie, of Lincolnshire," I answered promptly; and atthat moment he emerged from the shaft.

  A still more hearty murmur of welcome hailed his name and appearance,and we were borne forward to the table amid a chorus of voices, thegreeting given to Master Bertie being that of men who joyfully hailunlooked-for help. The room, from its vaulted ceiling and stone floor,and the trams of casks which lay here and there or near the tableserving for seats, appeared to be a cellar. Its dark, gloomy recesses,the flaring lights, and the weapons on the table, seemed meet andfitting surroundings for the anxious faces which were gathered aboutthe board; for there was a something in the air which was not so muchsecrecy as a thing more unpleasant--suspicion and mistrust. Almost atthe moment of our entrance it showed itself. One of the men, beforethe door had well closed behind us, went toward it, as if to go out.The leader--he who had questioned me--called sharply to him, biddinghim come back. And he came back, but reluctantly, as it seemed to me.

  I barely noticed this, for Master Bertie, who was known personally tomany and by name to all, was introducing me to two who were apparentlythe leaders: Sir Thomas Penruddocke, a fair man as tall as myself,loose-limbed and untidily dressed, with a reckless eye and a loudtongue; and Master Walter Kingston, a younger brother, I was told, ofthat Sir Anthony Kingston who had suffered death the year before forconspiracy against the queen--the same in which Lord Devon had showedthe white feather. Kingston was a young man of moderate height andslender; of a brown complexion, and delicate, almost womanish beauty,his sleepy dark eyes and dainty mustache suggesting a temper ratheramiable than firm. But the spirit of revenge had entered into him, andI soon learned that not even Penruddocke, a Cornish knight of longerlineage than purse, was so vehement a plotter or so devoted to thecause. Looking at the others my heart sank; it needed no greaterexperience than mine to discern that, except three or four whom Iidentified as stout professors of religion, they were men rather ofdesperate fortunes than good estate. I learned on the instant thatconspiracy makes strange bedfellows, and that it is impossible to dodirty work even with the purest intentions--in good company! MasterBertie's face indicated to one who knew him as well as I did somethingof the same feeling; and could the clock have been put back awhile,and we placed with free hands and uncommitted outside the Gatehouse, Ithink we should with one accord have turned our backs on it, and givenup an attempt which in this company could scarcely fare any way butill. Still, for good or evil, the die was cast now, and retreat wasout of the question.

  We had confronted too many dangers during the last three years not tobe able to face this one with a good courage; and presently MasterBertie, taking a seat, requested to be told of the strength and plansof our associates, his businesslike manner introducing at once somedegree of order and method into a conference which before our arrivalhad--unless I was much mistaken--been conspicuously lacking in both.

  "Our resources?" Penruddocke replied confidently. "They lieeverywhere, man! We have but to raise the flag and the rest will be atriumphal march. The people, sick of burnings and torturings, andheated by the loss of Calais last January, will flock to us. Flock tous, do I say? I will answer for it they will!"

  "But you have some engagements, some promises from people ofstanding?"

  "Oh, yes! But the whole nation will join us. They are weary of thepresent state of things."

  "They may be as weary of it as you say," Master Bertie answeredshrewdly; "but is it equally certain that they will risk their necksto amend it? You have fixed upon some secure base from which we canact, and upon which, if necessary, we may fall back to concentrate ourstrength?"

  "Fall back?" cried Penruddocke, rising from his seat in heat. "MasterBertie, I hope you have not come among us to talk of falling back! Letus have no talk of that. If Wyatt had held on at once London wouldhave been his! It was falling back ruined him."

  Master Bertie shook his head. "If you have no secure base, you run therisk of bein
g crushed in the first half hour," he said. "When a fireis first lighted the breeze puts it out which afterward but fans it."

  "You will not say that when you hear our plans. There are to be threerisings at once. Lord Delaware will rise in the west."

  "But will he?" said Master Bertie pointedly, disregarding thethreatening looks which were cast at him by more than one. "The laterebellion there was put down very summarily, and I should have thoughtthat countryside would not be prone to rise again. _Will_ LordDelaware rise?"

  "Oh, yes, he will rise fast enough!" Penruddocke replied carelessly."I will answer for him. And on the same day, while we do the Londonbusiness, Sir Richard Bray will gather his men in Kent."

  "Do not count on him!" said Master Bertie. "A prisoner, muffled andhoodwinked, was taken to the Tower by water this afternoon. And rumorsays it was Sir Richard Bray."

  There was a pause of consternation, during which one looked atanother, and swarthy faces grew pale. Penruddocke was the first torecover himself. "Bah!" he exclaimed, "a fig for rumor! She is ever alying jade! I will bet a noble Richard Bray is supping in his ownhouse at this minute."

  "Then you would lose," Master Bertie rejoined sadly, and with no showof triumph. "On hearing the report I sent a messenger to Sir Richard'shouse. He brought word back that Sir Richard Bray had been fetchedaway unexpectedly by four men, and that the house was in confusion."

  A murmur of dismay broke out at the lower end of the table. But theCornishman rose to the situation. "What matter?" he criedboisterously. "What we have lost in Bray we have gained in MasterBertie. He will raise Lincolnshire for us, and the Duchess's tenants.There should be five hundred stout men of the latter, and two-thirdsof them Protestants at heart. If Bray has been seized there is themore call for haste that we may release him."

  This appeal was answered by an outburst of cries. One or two evenrose, and waving their weapons swore a speedy vengeance. But MasterBertie sat silent until the noise had subsided. Then he spoke. "Youmust not count on them either, Sir Thomas," he said firmly. "I cannotfind it in my conscience to bring my wife's tenants into a plan sodesperate as this appears to be. To appeal to the people generally isone thing; to call on those who are bound to us and who cannot inhonor refuse is another. And I will not risk in a hopeless strugglethe lives of men whose fathers looked for guidance to me and mine."

  A silence, the silence of utter astonishment, fell upon the plottersround the table. In every face--and they were all turned upon mycompanion--I read rage and distrust and dismay. They had chafed underhis cold criticisms and his calm reasonings. But this went beyond all,and there were hands which stole instinctively to daggers, and eyeswhich waited scowling for a signal. But Penruddocke, sanguine bynature and rendered reckless by circumstances, had still the feelingsof a gentleman, and something in him responded to the appeal whichunderlay Master Bertie's words. He remained silent, gazing gloomily atthe table, his eyes perhaps opened at this late hour to thehopelessness of the attempt he meditated.

  It was Walter Kingston who came to the fore, and put into words thethoughts of the coarser and more selfish spirits round him. Leapingfrom his seat he dashed his slender hand on the table. "What does thismean?" he sneered, a dangerous light in his dark eyes. "Those only arehere or should be here who are willing to stake all--all, mind you--onthe cause. Let us have no sneaks! Let us have no men with a foot oneither bank! Let us have no Courtenays nor cowards! Such men ruinedWyatt and hanged my brother! A curse on them!" he cried, his voicerising almost to a scream.

  "Master Kingston! do you refer to me?" Bertie rejoined in haughtysurprise.

  "Ay, I do!" cried the young man hotly.

  "Then I must beg leave of these gentlemen to explain my position."

  "Your position? So! More words?" quoth the other mockingly.

  "Ay! as many words as I please," retorted Master Bertie, his colorrising. "Afterward I will be as ready with deeds, I dare swear, as anyother! My tenants and my wife's I will not draw into an almosthopeless struggle. But my own life and my friend's, since we haveobtained your secrets, I must risk, and I will do so in honor to thedeath. For the rest, who doubts my courage may test it below ground orabove."

  The young man laughed rudely. "You will risk your life, but not yourlands, Master Bertie? That is the position, is it?"

  My companion was about to utter a rejoinder, fierce for him, when I,who had hitherto sat silent, interposed. "The old witch told thetruth," I cried bitterly. "She said if we came hither we shouldperish. And perish we shall, through being linked to a dozen men asbrave as I could wish, but the biggest fools under heaven!"

  "Fools?" shouted Kingston.

  "Ay, fools!" I repeated. "For who but fools, being at sea in a boat inwhich all must sink or swim, would fall a-quarreling? Tell me that!" Icried, slapping the table.

  "You are about right," Penruddocke said, and half a dozen voicesmuttered assent.

  "About right, is he?" shrieked Kingston. "But who knows we are in aboat together? Who knows that, I'd like to hear?"

  "I do!" I said, standing up and overtopping him by eight inches. "Andif any man hints that Master Bertie is here for any other purpose orwith any other intent than to honestly risk his life in this endeavoras becomes a gentleman, let him stand out--let him stand out, and Iwill break his neck! Fie, gentlemen, fie!" I continued, after a shortpause, which I did not make too long lest Master Kingston's passionshould get the better of his prudence. "Though I am young I have seenservice. But I never saw battle won yet with dissension in the camp.For shame! Let us to business, and make the best dispositions we may."

  "You talk sense, Master Carey!" Penruddocke cried, with a great oath."Give me your hand. And do you, Kingston, hold your peace. If MasterBertie will not raise his men to save his own skin, he will hardly doit for ours. Now, Sir Richard Bray being taken, what is to be done, mylads? Come, let us look to that."

  So the storm blew over. But it was with heavy hearts that two of usfell to the discussion which followed, counting over weapons andassigning posts, and debating this one's fidelity and that one'slukewarmness. Our first impressions had not deceived us. Theplot was desperate, and those engaged in it were wanting in everyelement which should command success--in information, forethought,arrangement--everything save sheer audacity. When after a prolongedand miserable sitting it was proposed that all should take the oath ofassociation on the Gospels, Master Bertie and I assented gloomily. Itwould make our position no worse, for already we were fully committed.The position was indeed bad enough. We had only persuaded the othersto a short delay; and even this meant that we must remain in hiding inEngland, exposed from day to day to all the chances of detection andtreachery.

  Sir Thomas brought out from some secret place about him a tiny roll ofpaper wrapped in a quill, and while we stood about him looking overhis shoulders, he laboriously added, letter by letter, three or fournames. The stern, anxious faces which peered the while at the documentor scanned each other only to find their anxiety reflected, theflaring lights behind us, the recklessness of some and the distrust ofothers, the cloaks in which many were wrapped to the chin, and theoccasional gleam of hidden weapons, made up a scene very striking. Themore as it was no mere show, but some of us saw only too distinctlybehind it the figure of the headsman and the block.

  "Now," said Penruddocke, who himself I think took a certain grimpleasure in the formality, "be ready to swear, gentlemen, in pairs, asI call the names. Kingston and Matthewson!"

  Lolling against the wall under one of the sconces I looked at MasterBertie, expecting to be called up with him. He smiled as our eyes met;and I thought with a rush of tenderness how lightly I could have daredthe worst had all my associates been like him. But repining came toolate, and in a moment Penruddocke surprised me by calling out"Crewdson and Carey!"

  So Master Bertie was not to be my companion! I learned afterward thatmen who were strangers to one another were purposely associated, thetheory being that each should keep an eye upon his oath-fellow. I wentforwar
d to the end of the table, and took the book.

  There was a slight pause.

  "Crewdson!" called Penruddocke sharply; "did you not hear, man?"

  There was a little stir at the farther end of the room, and he cameforward, moving slowly and reluctantly. I saw that he was the man whomPenruddocke had called back when we entered, a man of great height,though slender, and closely cloaked. A drooping gray mustache coveredhis mouth, and that was almost all I made out before Sir Thomas, withsome sharpness, bade him uncover. He did so with an abrupt gesture,and reaching out his hand grasped the other end of the book as thoughhe would take it from me. His manner was so strange that I looked hardat him, and he, jerking up his head with a gesture of defiance, lookedat me too, his face very pale.

  I heard Penruddocke's voice droning the words of the oath, but I paidno attention to them--I was busied with something else. Where had Iseen the sinister gleam in those eyes before, and that forehead highand narrow, and those lean, swarthy cheeks? Where had I beforeconfronted that very face which now glared into mine across the book?Its look was bold and defiant, but low down in the cheek I saw alittle pulse beating furiously, a pulse which told of anxiety, and thejaws, half veiled by the ragged mustache, were set in an iron grip.Where? Ha! I knew. I dropped my end of the book and stepped back.

  "Look to the door!" I cried, my voice sounding harsh and strange in myown ears. "Let no one leave! I denounce that man!" And raising my handI pointed pitilessly at my oath-fellow. "I denounce him--he is a spyand traitor!"

  "I a spy?" the man shouted fiercely--with the fierceness of despair.

  "Ay, you! you! Clarence, or Crewdson, or whatever you call yourself, Idenounce you! My time has come!"

  ". . . HE IS A SPY AND A TRAITOR!"]